“It may be your ship, but it’s our dock and you can’t use it without our go-ahead. And you don’t have it,” Corra added.
“Right,” Fiearius muttered. “Because you’d rather just stand here and squabble while your friends die. Great idea.”
He had expected Corra to falter, but she stood her ground and stared back at him with a new bout of fearlessness. “You’re not leaving this ship, Fiearius,” she barked. “Not ‘til we have a plan. We’re not losing you too.”
Fiearius met her stare straight on, as unafraid as she was. Finally, he let out a bitter, tortured laugh and stalked from the room.
Hours later, Fiearius had a plan. He had to have a plan, he could not go any longer not having a plan, so he’d made a plan. Corra, true to her threat, had sealed off the dock, locking him out of his ship, and although he had spent a good twenty minutes yelling about it, refused to change her mind. But he knew there was another way. He’d spent the past few hours marching around the Beacon before it had come to him but finally, it came. The something, anything, just need to act, plan, that he was sure would work. It had to work. It didn’t have an option to not work.
The Dionysian wasn’t the only vessel stored within the Beacon. It was so simple. Of course. Take off in one of its fighters, fly down to Vescent and get them. Easy. Take a nice gun, everything would be fine. He’d be back before anyone noticed he was gone.
And they were watching. As he stalked the halls, he could feel Corra’s eyes on him, even when she wasn’t in the room. Waiting for him to make a move so she could stop him. She was in on it. She didn’t want him to save them. But no, that was just the paranoia again. He shook it off as he strode through the double doors into the bay. He probably shouldn’t have taken that extra pill. He was beginning to think it was affecting the way he thought.
Regardless, he was motivated. He was focused. He was invincible. He felt twenty years old again and ready for anything. Ready specifically for saving Leta and Cy from Vescent. Hurriedly, he pulled on one of the flight suits from the storage locker and secured the helmet over his head. He turned back towards the nearest of the Beacon’s sleek, little fighter jets and put his hands on his hips, determined. So he’d never flown one before. But how hard could it be, really? This would be easy. He could do anything. Anything at all. So without a second thought, he climbed into the cockpit, ready for a rescue mission.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
With a jolt, Eve sat up from her spot against the wall and stared through narrowed, discerning eyes as the tall figure of Fiearius suddenly stalked past her post, purpose in his steps. He had the walk of a man who was determined to do something and totally blind to the consequences. He was entirely lost. He had no idea what he was doing. He was grieving for Leta and his brother and he didn’t even realize it. The poor fool.
Seconds later, Eve was pounding down the stairs after him, swiftly pulling her handgun off of her hip. Wherever he was going, whatever he was doing, she doubted it would be good.
Inside the fighter bay, Eve approached more quietly, giving him a moment to adjust to his surroundings. Fiearius was in the cockpit, preparing the tiny ship for escape.
She didn’t want to startle him into doing anything stupid, but this couldn’t go on. Internally, she was fairly certain Finn and Corra had already disabled the departure mechanisms, but Eve was taking no chances. None. Fiearius wasn’t going down this way — so needlessly. So foolishly.
She approached from the side, purposely ruining her element of surprise, giving him plenty of time to spot her as she slowly lifted her gun to point at him. Nearly. It was actually pointing four inches left of his shoulder, but to someone as hazy he was, surely he wouldn’t notice. The threat had to be enough. Regret tugged at her heart — she was never disloyal. Ever. But this has to be done.
“Cap’n,” she muttered bitterly, her voice sharp and full of warning, “you get out of that cockpit. Hear me? You ain’t going anywhere tonight.” Her gun was steady. Her eyes narrowed toward slits as she went on harshly, “This won’t help them, captain. They need you alive and on your own ship. Got it? They need you here.”
– – – – – –
Fiearius scanned over the controls. None of them looked familiar. All of them looked a little blurry. In fact, everything looked a little blurry. He shook his head and tried to refocus his vision. But as long as this little ship was anything like the Dionysian (and surely it must be. How different could ships be, really?), he could figure it out. He hit what he could only assume was the power button and sure enough, the lights flicked on around him. One in particular was flashing red.
As he kept prodding at it, trying to get it to stop or trying to understand what it meant, something caught his eye. Something approaching the cockpit. Someone, actually. Eve, he recognized after a moment. Eve who was — wait — pointing a gun at him? At him?
For a moment, he stayed where he was, stunned, shocked even. What the hell was she doing? Did she not want him to save Leta and Cyrus either? Honestly, he couldn’t fathom why. What was her motivation? Was she working for the Society? Or did she just want them out of the picture for–for some reason? Maybe she was jealous. Yeah, that could be it. She wanted to be second in command of the Dionysian. Or she wanted Leta’s position of influence.
Well Fiearius would have none of that. He watched her for one more moment before finally, he secured his hands on the sides of the cockpit and swiftly swung himself out of it, landing with a thump on the ground. Calmly, fearlessly, he started to take slow steps towards her, a knowing glare dug into his brow.
Corra snapped awake as the alarm blared overhead. The moment she heard it, she knew exactly what it was. It took only a singular glance at the security feed to confirm. Oh Fiear, she grumbled internally as she rolled out of bed. As she ran out the door, she lifted the COMM to her mouth. “Meet me down there.”
Corra had asked Addy and Finn to set up the alarms before they went to bed, desperately hoping that they wouldn’t need any of them. They were set on pretty much anything that could get someone off the ship or pilot the ship or use any of the ship’s resources in any way. For the first few hours, even after that argument, she believed it would actually be fine. Even grieving, Fiearius had obviously gotten so tired that he’d passed out somewhere and they were safe. Unfortunately that wasn’t true.
When she charged into the shuttle bay and found Fiearius holding Eve’s gun to his chest, she realized just how untrue it really was.
“What?” he was shouting at her. “You gonna shoot me? Gonna gun me down right here?” A manic grin that made Corra’s hair stand on end spread across his face. “Of course. You wanted them gone all along. No wonder you left them on the Titan. Go on then. Do it. Finish what you started.”
There was something in his eyes that Corra no longer recognized. He’d been a mess the past few days, understandably. He wasn’t sleeping, was barely eating, but that seemed normal. This though? This. This was beyond grief, beyond worry. This wasn’t Fiearius anymore. And he needed to be stopped.
“Fiearius!” she shouted, marching into the room. “What the hell are you doing?!”
When he turned his eyes on her, it only confirmed her fears. He looked far more dazed and confused than he had a couple hours ago. Something had dramatically changed. “And you!” he shouted back at her, releasing Eve’s wrist but instead seizing her gun, shoving her aside and turning it on Corra. Shocked, Corra halted in her path. Fiearius had done a lot of crazy things in her time knowing him. Said a lot of crazy stuff. But he’d never threatened her.
“You, what’s your game?” he demanded. “What are you getting out of this?”
“Fiear…put the gun down and we can talk,” she suggested hesitantly.
“How bout I keep the gun and you just talk,” Fiearius growled, still approaching her one slow step at a time. “Tell me why you gave them up to the Society.”
Corra’s eyes grew wide. “What? I didn’t–”
“Well you certainly don’t want me to save them,” he snapped.
“Fiearius, that’s ridiculous, I want them back just as much as you do,” she pleaded, holding up her hands in surrender.
“Don’t bullshit me. You’re in on this.” He spun back towards Eve. “You all are. You all are.” He swung the gun back to Corra. And back to Eve again. He couldn’t seem to decide who to shoot first. “I’m going to go save them. No matter what. I’m going to get them back whether you like it or not.” Finally, he settled on Eve, aiming the gun to her head and cocking it as he growled, “And you’re not gonna stop–”
There was a blur of motion to Corra’s right and suddenly, Fiearius let out a mighty yell. He clutched his hand to his neck and spun around, his arm crashing into Daelen’s face with a thud. “You son of a–” Fiearius began, but his eyes rolled back and he tumbled forward, landing on the ground in a pile of limbs.
Daelen, rubbing his eye where he’d been hit, slid the injector back into his belt and reached down to take the gun from Fiearius’ unconscious hand.
“You alright?” Corra asked him, feeling breathless.
“Nothing a little salve won’t mend,” he assured her, dutifully taking Fiearius’ pulse before standing up and sighing. “He’ll be out for a good twelve hours. We should get him upstairs if we can.”
“Fiear, wake up!” the voice snapped and suddenly there was a sharp pain on his cheek and he jolted up, nearly hitting Corra in the face.
Fortunately, just in time, she jumped backwards away from the bed. The infirmary bed that he was apparently laying in. He looked down at it, confused. How had he gotten here? What had happened? All his memories were suddenly a blur until the realization hit him: Leta and Cyrus.
At once, he made an attempt to get up, but a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. “You’ll want to stay where you are,” Daelen suggested. “It’ll take some time before the effects of the drug wear off. Also, you may be feeling a bit–”
Bile was rising in his throat before he even finished the sentence and suddenly Fiearius found himself doubling over the side bed and expelling everything from his stomach in one fell swoop.